


Multicolored Holiday Lights

by AshesTheTerrible



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blowjobs, Breakups, Childhood Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time Sex, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, past Shiro/Adam, past klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-09 21:43:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17413262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshesTheTerrible/pseuds/AshesTheTerrible
Summary: Shiro had always held a flame for Lance. Ever since childhood. But they'd grown apart and he'd come to terms with that. He'd found love as had Lance. But life has a strange way of bringing people back together, right when they might need it most.





	Multicolored Holiday Lights

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to get this posted around the Holidays but whoops I'm late lol. Here's some breakup comfort and some old love brought back to the surface. Enjoy!

The door offered him entrance as he gave an insistent little shove to the old thing. The well-worn knob was familiar in the ring of his fingers. The hinges heaved a groan of protest, having been enjoying their dormant state, they voiced their objection to the man now standing in the threshold.

His slender digits made a swift and graceful flick, connecting with the light switch and bathing the vast space of the living room in brilliant light.

He felt all of the air in his lungs leave him in one painful _whoosh._

The oxygen burned his throat as it went.

His hand trembled as it shut the door behind him with a subtle little _click._

The apartment had become such a comforting familiarity to him in the past two years he’d called it home. It was large, in one of the older buildings in town, but its age just added to its charm. He’d spent many a nights on the couch that sat to his left, binge watching too many hours’ worth of his choice mind-numbing reality television shows. Normally the elegant, swooped back of the couch was decorated with an abandoned coat or two that had not quite made it to their proper place in the hall closet.

There was a shoe rack by the door, one that was made of oak wood, hand crafted he was certain, a thing picked up from a road trip across several states one year. It was always full of neatly placed pairs of footwear, dutifully holding onto the clothing until they were needed for one more new adventure.

As he stood there in the mouth of the room, still and breathless, there were no coats strewn on couch backs to be seen, nor were there half as many pairs of shoes. The old sneakers, the pair of riding boots, the ones he didn’t own…were no longer there.

The young man’s heart began to gallop in the cage of his ribs.

_Tha-bump, tha-bump, tha-bump._

It was off, hitting the dirt track like a prized new horse, the one worth betting all the money to your name on; the horse with some ridiculous title and a hunger for the finish line.

He dropped his briefcase right there in the doorway, the leather thudded against the floor like a sack of bricks.

He didn’t remove his shoes, or his winter hat.

His long legs gathered a quick pace as he rushed down the hallway, the rooms flying by his peripherals as he went. His dress shoes squeaked to a halt before the bedroom entrance, good soles gripping against polished hardwood.

He didn’t have a proper name for the feeling creeping up from the pit of his chest. All he knew is that it was something that was coming forth from a deep, dark place. It had been dormant for such a long, painful time. It had tried again and again to claw its’ way to the surface…but time and time again the young man had forced it back into its’ hole and shoveled more dirt atop it. He’d buried it beneath thin soil, the thing wriggling to the top despite his efforts. He’d told himself sugar coated lies and convinced his mind that he’d taken care of the pesky thing.

But now, as he stood there at the edge of their shared bed, the thing was using his ribs as a ladder and oh was it climbing with enthuse. He could feel the scrape of each and every one of its’ sharp little claws as it made the ascent. Part of him didn’t care. Let it come, let it be free to bring itself up into the light.

The bed was still rumpled from where two bodies had occupied it the night previous, two souls having been in too much of a hurry to make it this morning. There were two nightstands on either side of the queen sized mattress, one was his own, the little piece of furniture housing his alarm clock, his glasses case, a forgotten cup of water and a stack of books all halfway read but never finished. The other stand, as of this morning, had been decorated by the belongings of the dark haired man he knew and loved so well. There had been a notebook and a small lamp. There had been scattered items and knickknacks.

The flat top of the wooden furniture now stood empty.

The closet door was left wide and open displaying blatantly that one half of the walk-in was left empty. Only the hangers were left behind.

Now it was so painfully apparent that one half of the whole that completed this space was missing. Things had been stripped from walls, taken from drawers, collected and packed and they had gone.

Disappeared…just like the man that owned them all.

Everything felt painfully unbalanced.

Lance was barely aware as his feet lead him toward the bathroom, into the space that had been the stage for countless morning routines. Bumped elbows as two bodies sidestepped around each other, brushing teeth and clambering into the shower.

Shivering hands turned the glistening sink faucets, allowing the water to warm before he shakily plucked his glasses from the bridge of his nose and settled them down on the countertop. The lanky man cupped the liquid in his palms and splashed it over his face. The warmth seeped into his cheeks and ran down his neck in slow little rivers.

His fingers flattened against the cool marble and his eyelids came open tragically slow. The man that greeted him from the mirror’s reflection was someone he did not recognize…just a passing acquaintance at best, a stranger at the worst. His eyes were tired and sunken deep into dark ringed sockets. The shadows under his eyes clung with him like uninvited guests that had overstayed their welcome. The color had drained right out of his bronze, sun-kissed cheeks and his stance reminded him somewhat of a puppet that had, had all of its’ fragile strings cut. He just… _hung,_ lifeless and exhausted.

His pupils flicked to the left side of the bathroom counter…where the red toothbrush used to sit in its’ holder and the hair gel in the little black can used to stay half closed.

The saddest part is that if he was going to be completely transparent with himself…he’d seen this coming.

Like watching a storm roll across open water, he’d watched it for weeks, forming, churning, sending the waves scattering. He’d been standing firmly on the opposite shore as the beastly thing had come for him. He’d done his best to turn his back on the nasty clouds, he’d just ignored it's thunder and lightning…until it had slammed into him with all of its weight and now there was no ignoring it.

Here he was in the thick of the storm and he couldn’t just close his eyes and make it dissipate. It was here and it was so much meaner than he’d ever expect it to be.

The young man curled his fists into tight balls. First came the sadness, but now came the anger.

He’d seen it coming but it didn’t make the blow any easier. Especially with it being the Holiday season. It was Christmas Eve and now he was all alone.

A yell bubbled up from his chest and echoed through the small bathroom, bounding back to his ears shrilly. He grabbed a handful of the items on the counter and threw them all to the floor and then he was gone, thundering down the hallway.

He was no longer at the mercy of the storm, now he _was_ the storm.

He flew into the living room, his vision glossy with tears, the lights from the tree glittering in his pupils. They were just smears to him, smudges of reds and greens and gold. He let go of a stream of curses, headed toward the pile of perfectly wrapped presents that he’d stayed up far too late three nights in a row to get wrapped. He’d tucked little notes into each one of them, letting Keith know what he meant to him. He’d been aware of their rough patch, but he had given it his best efforts to continue to try.

He supposed none of that mattered now.

Lance’s fingers found the first gift he’d labeled to his lover and dug into the corner of the paper, ripping it open loudly. He tore through the multicolored paper, all decorated with deer and snow. He felt just as cold as the landscapes printed on the wrapping. He took the note he’d written, the little envelope taped carefully to the top of the box and ripped it into shreds.

Tattered bits of paper fell around him like a sea of disappointment as he savagely destroyed the wrapping on gift after gift. He sat panting in the middle of the living room floor, the tears coming hot and heavy then, hiccupping sobs rattling through his bones.

He pressed his palms to his eyes and cried.

He just sat in the middle of the wreckage and allowed it to become real. With the holiday paper all around him and the hurt in his chest, it was so vividly real.

He cried, he screamed, as loud as he could, lungs emptying the sound into the vacant apartment.

For an hour he stayed that way, allowing all the seething anger to drip out of his bones until he was just left with sadness and nothing else. He didn’t have room for anything other than that; he was a glass full to the very top.

The lonely howl of the winter wind beat against the window pane. The noise drew his attention and he watched as snow flurries danced out in the waning light. They dipped and pitched, circling around each other in a slow waltz that was so beautiful it pained him. He finally heaved himself up off of the floor, legs stiff and nose burning with being rubbed raw.

He reached into his coat pocket for his phone.

There was only one message there, the letters of the name at the top seared Lance’s pupils.

He snarled his lip up and more tears came to visit.

_“I’m sorry Lance.”_

Lance threw his phone across the room. He heard it land and he knew immediately that would result in a cracked screen but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

The wind moaned louder and Lance stood there, letting the tears drip to the polished wood floor.

The snowstorm outside was wild and angry and it was an unpleasant reminder that there would be no way in hell he’d be able to catch a flight home now. He had planned to spend the holiday here with Keith and they would get a flight as soon as they could to visit his family. He’d looked forward to the warm night in, maybe heal some of the parts between them that had been cracking and rupturing. But he supposed that was just wishful thinking on his end. Maybe they really had been far past the point of mending and he’d just been stupidly holding onto the dream that they could be whole again.

The apartment was so eerily silent.

The tree outside scratched along the side of the apartment building and it raised all the hairs on the back of Lance’s neck.

He just wanted the arms of his mama, of his family. He wanted the warm, home-cooked meals and the smell of cinnamon wafting through the home.

Lance crossed the room stiffly.

He didn’t know who else to go to now. He was sure the other man would be busy on Christmas Eve, but Lance had nowhere else to go. He just needed someone, anyone.

*****

Shiro carefully stepped over the overweight cat that was laid across the hallway floor and carried the old box of ornaments across the room. The yellow eyed, black feline stared up at him, her tail flicking slightly as she made soft little noises at the big man.

“Always in the way aren’t you girl?” Shiro laughed as he set the box down next to his tree.

He’d almost talked himself out of putting one up at all, but Allura had guilted him into it. Shiro sat down on the floor in his grey sweatpants and rummaged through the box, un-wrapping each ornament that was carefully stored away in tissue paper.

The first one his hands came across was a small reindeer, made of glass that sparkled gently in the low lights.

He sighed deeply.

This was why he’d not really wanted to put décor up. Because the memories intertwined within some of the small, innocent little ornaments still stung. Even after an entire year the wounds were still raw and open.

Adam had gotten him the little hanging deer on their first Christmas together. That was back when they were so new and so happy. But that had faded and withered and it was over now. He’d picked up the pieces and tucked the engagement ring he’d worn on his finger away in his bedside drawer. He was getting by, things were easier now, but every once and a while the hurt still came back.

Mostly it was the loneliness.

He was up to three cats now.

He’d entertained the idea of getting another but that just made him feel worse. What was he a crazy cat guy now?

He laughed softly to himself, maybe that wasn’t such a bad title.

The small cellphone sitting on the couch suddenly began to ring, causing him to jump and nearly drop the ornament he had in hand. Shiro set the small thing down and scrambled across to the cushion. He cocked his head as he read the name on the incoming call, his heart doing a little flip in his chest. He picked it up quickly.

“Hey Lance, what’s up?” Shiro said casually depositing himself down on the big loveseat.

There was a sniffle from the other line.

“Hey S-Shiro are you…home?” Lance’s voice was cracked and strained.

Shiro sat up straighter, brows furrowed.

“Lance, are you ok? What’s wrong?” Shiro asked in concern.

He was answered by another pathetic sniffle.

“Keith’s gone. He…he left.”

Lance could hardly get the sentence out.

Shiro’s stomach tightened. Gosh he knew the sound of heartbreak, and he hated it on Lance. Lance deserved to be happy, to be loved; he should have been immune to heartbreak. Shiro didn’t mind that he’d had to struggle through it, he’d not been the best partner but Lance, Lance was perfect. He shouldn’t have to experience that, ever in Shiro’s opinion.

“Oh Lance, I’m so sorry…” Shiro began.

“Can you, can you come pick me up? I just…fuck I don’t want to be here alone…” Lance managed through shaky breaths.

Shiro propped the phone to his ear as he hopped on one foot, already halfway through getting his boots on.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Shiro confirmed.

Shiro grabbed his keys as he tossed on his thickest winter jacket. Blizzard or not, no power on earth was keeping Shiro from getting to Lance’s apartment.

Lance was his best friend, they had been for years. He still had framed pictures of him and Lance in their underwear swimming in the creek behind Shiro’s childhood home. Shiro’s parents had been military and moved a lot, but they had stayed the longest there in Florida. He was ever thankful for that. It had allowed him to grow up beside Lance. Lance was the brightest ray of sunlight he’d ever known. Lance was always the one to come up with wild ideas, like jumping off the highest rock at the river. Shiro had slipped and broken his arm. It still clicked sometimes when he rotated it the wrong way.

Lance had been the very first person Shiro told that he thought he was gay. He’d been harboring the confusing feelings for so long and he was so scared it would ruin their friendship, but Lance had smiled and hugged him and told him he was so proud of him but he’d never tell a soul until Shiro was ready.

High-School was a time Shiro categorized as one of the fondest moments of his life.

He would never forget sitting on Lance’s back porch their Junior year drinking two beers Lance had swiped from his father’s fridge. Shiro’s parents were gone on vacation and it was just the two of them, two beverages and the endless night.

Lance had looked to Shiro, arms hung on his knees.

“Hey Shiro,” He’d started.

“Yeah?” Shiro had responded taking a swig of the light beer.

“I think…I like girls _and_ boys,” Lance had whispered.

Shiro had jerked his head to look at Lance, eyes wide.

“Really?” Shiro had asked, trying to hide the tone of excitement in his voice.

He’d crushed on Lance for years, always burying the feelings for fear of rejection or screwing up the good thing they had going.

“Yeah. Like, I have crushes on girls all the time but then some days…I just think about kissing you a whole lot…” Lance had whispered.

Shiro could remember vividly how he’d felt in that moment. Like his skin was on fire, his heart hammering, his breathing short and shallow.

“Do you want to uh…maybe try…kissing me…?” Shiro had asked slowly.

Lance’s eyes had seemed bluer that night.

Shiro could still taste that first kiss on his lips if he closed his eyes for long enough. He could recall the way the night had smelled, rain coming on the horizon, the air fresh and new. That kiss was the kind that leaves a person changed. They’d come together so deep and passionately, and Shiro felt like he’d done nothing but chase the high of that moment for the rest of his life. Nothing quite amounted to that one experience.

There had been more experiences like that through those next two years. But college had changed things and the small moments of experimentation faded, but never their friendship. Now Shiro saw Lance regularly as they lived in the same city. He never spoke of the feelings he still harbored for his childhood friend.

That was selfish. Up until last year he’d been in a relationship, but that had never really changed the way he felt about Lance. Lance was the shot Shiro always wished he’d taken and but never did. Then Lance had found love and Shiro was no home-wrecker. He was happy for Lance.

Now in one big explosion everything was different.

Shiro scolded himself as he pulled into Lance’s apartment complex.

He was just here to be a supportive friend. That was all.

He allowed the truck door to slam closed and he hurried into the warmth of the building. As he stood before Lance’s doorway he could hear the bell echo through the inner-workings of the home. The door turned and came open and Shiro felt his face fall. Lance took up the space of the entryway, somehow looking like he’d shrunken. He appeared so small then, eyes red tinged from many tears shed. A moment passed between them before Shiro was in motion.

He stepped into the threshold and pulled Lance into his arms. The slightly younger man melted into Shiro’s chest, hands clutching the back of the other man’s coat, snow still clinging to the hood. He sobbed into his long-time friend, hair all a mess and he was sure he was a ghastly sight, but Shiro didn’t seem to mind. Shiro rubbed small, comforting circles into Lance’s back as he hushed him.

Shiro had been here before.

Lance had seen how ugly the end of a relationship looked, how painful it was. He’d been there for Shiro and now, in the dark of his own breakup Shiro was here for him. Shiro was always here. Never once had he let Lance down. Their friendship ran deep and therefore neither one of them was ever really alone.

Lance finally let loose of Shiro’s massive form and backed up to allow him entrance.

“I packed a bag…let me…go get it,” Lance whispered as he disappeared into the apartment.

Shiro closed the door behind him and couldn’t help but to notice the tornado of torn paper all over the living room floor and the newly unwrapped gifts he could only assume were meant for Keith. A twinge of anger seared through him. How dare that asshole do this to Lance on Christmas Eve? How dare he steal Lance’s light away?

He knew the thoughts were just him being protective.

Sometimes relationships just didn’t work. He knew that better than most.

He just hated to see Lance cry.

He wished he could soak up all the hurt so Lance didn’t have to feel any of it.

Lance returned, sniffing loudly, dragging a backpack behind him as he pulled on his socks and shoes. Shiro offered him a smile and took his bag from him, shouldering it with ease. Lance gave him a thankful expression and followed the other man out the door.

The drive was silent for the most part, the radio turned down low. Shiro stole a glance over at Lance. The beautiful man looked so lost as he stared out the front windshield. Like he was searching for his other half but was coming up empty. Shiro frowned.

Lance didn’t say a word as they pulled into Shiro’s driveway and climbed out of the truck. Shiro grabbed his overnight bag and followed the lanky man to the front stoop. He cracked the door open and Lance welcomed himself inside. He had been here many times before, he wasn’t afraid to make himself comfortable.

Lance paused as he began to take his coat off.

“Thank you…for being here,” He whispered softly.

Shiro nodded and began to head down the hall to put Lance’s things in the spare room.

“I’m sorry for intruding.”

Lance’s voice shook.

Shiro rested a large palm on Lance’s shoulder.

“Lance, I’m always here, you are _never_ intruding, don’t worry ok?” Shiro said genuinely.

Lance nodded slowly and followed on his friend’s heels.

“Change into something comfortable, then we can watch dumb Christmas specials and drink hot coco…or wine, I’ve got wine too,” Shiro offered turning to Lance.

Lance slowly worked the buttons of his jacket apart.

“Wine, wine would be great,” Lance said quickly.

Shiro laughed softly.

“I’ll go pour us a couple of glasses.”

Shiro left Lance to his own devices and wandered to the kitchen, grabbing the remote to flick on the living room television as he did so. His heart was conflicted. Part of him was selfishly happy he wasn’t spending Christmas alone; the other part was heavy with the reason why that was so. Lance was freshly bruised and he needed Shiro, which made Shiro feel…important in some way. He’d be the one to glue Lance’s broken shards back together.

Maybe when Lance was ready he could possibly…

 _No._ Shiro thought to himself firmly.

He was not even going to entertain the idea. He was not going to use Lance’s vulnerable state as a way for him to chase some stupid crush that never really dissipated. He was not that friend. He refused to let himself.

He uncorked the fresh bottle of wine with a loud _pop,_ and collected two clean glasses from the cupboard. He clinked them down on the countertop and poured some into their bellies. He assessed the glassware, and then poured a little more. He supposed they both deserved extra full glasses tonight.

Shiro perked as the soft pad of slow feet approached him from behind. He turned, eyes sweeping over the new company in the kitchen. Lance was dressed in a simple pair of blue plaid sleep pants and a shirt that looked about two sizes too big for his thin frame.

Shiro offered him a warm smile and plucked the two glasses off the counter, handing one gingerly to the other man. Lance’s shoulders dropped as he took the cup and brought the smooth, white wine to the cusp of his lips. He hummed in appreciation as it settled warmly in the pit of his gut.

He made his way to the couch, clutching the alcohol in his fingers as if it was the most precious thing he’d ever held.

Shiro’s weight dipped the couch cushions as he plopped himself downward and looked across the furniture to his friend. Lance’s eyes were trained on the TV screen, the station playing the ancient version of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.

The young man wiped at his nose and curled his legs up, dragging one of the blankets Shiro kept on the back of the couch onto his lap.

“I feel so stupid,” Lance whispered.

Shiro clinked his wine glass down onto the coffee table before them.

“You aren’t stupid though,” Shiro retorted.

Lance nodded slowly.

“I think you are biased,” Lance tried dryly at the humor.

Shiro shrugged.

Lance didn’t even know the half of it.

“I suppose I am,” Shiro laughed softly.

There was a long pause between them, the music from the television show taking the place of conversation.

Lance took a long swallow of his drink.

“I saw it coming. Like, part of me knew deep down,” Lance sighed.

“Did you know? With Adam, when there was that point of no return. When it couldn’t be fixed anymore?”

That question was like jabbing a spoon into Shiro’s heart and scooping out a piece. It still ached, but he tried not to let the pain show through on his face.

“Yeah, in a way I think I did,” Shiro said finally after a long consideration.

“But we never want to just give up on a relationship when we still love someone. Love is stubborn.”

Lance watched Shiro carefully.

“Do you miss him?” Lance whispered.

The sentence cut deep, all the way down to bone.

“I do, sometimes, but then I remember that what we had won’t ever be the same as it was then. I think of what I learned and how I grew and it’s not so bad,” Shiro sighed.

Shiro swallowed half the words he really wanted to say, things such as his feelings for Lance, right or wrong, kept him from missing Adam most days. Imaginary scenarios involving him being in a happy relationship with Lance kept the hurt at bay. He fended off the loneliness with thoughts of how Lance would feel curled in his sheets next to him, how his apartment would smell if they were cooking together, how full his heart would be.

It was a stupid, self-destructive habit he couldn’t seem to let loose of.

Lance tipped his glass backward and drained what was left in one loud swallow.

Shiro gave him a soft expression and reached over to pluck the empty dishware from his fingers. Their knuckles brushed and Shiro felt himself grow just about as warm as the heat drifting up from the floor vents of his home.

He refilled Lance’s wine glass and returned to his spot on the couch.

Lance closed his eyes for much longer than the standard blink.

“It feels like someone ran over my chest with a snow plow,” He stated bleakly.

Shiro made an understanding noise in the back of his throat.

“It will be like that for a while,” Shiro admitted slowly.

That answer didn’t seem to settle well with the chocolate haired man. He took another big swallow of his drink.

“Fuck him,” Lance nearly snarled.

Shiro frowned and leaned in toward Lance’s glass, holding up his own.

“Here’s to shitty breakups I guess,” Shiro laughed with a shake of his head.

This drew a small smile from the other man. He entertained Shiro’s antics and clinked the brim of his cup to Shiro’s, the soft sound of glass on glass kissing his ears.

“Yeah, here’s to shitty breakups and a couple of sad saps huh?” Lance said with a big sigh.

Shiro took a sip of his wine.

“We make quite the pair don’t we?” Shiro snorted.

*****

The evening drew on, deep into the early hours. There were two empty bottles of wine now taking up space in the trash can and Shiro could feel the easy sensation of a damned good buzz right behind his eyeballs. Lance seemed to be feeling the same. There was a ruby flush to the younger man’s high cheekbones and a droop to his eyelids, his movements a little slower than they should have been.

Shiro set his glass down and shuffled over to his half decorated tree, all hopes of finishing it had gone out the window as soon as Lance had called. He plucked a badly wrapped box from beneath the fake limbs and chucked it toward Lance.

Lance didn’t have a hope of catching it and the package tumbled to the floor. Lance scooped it up with a drunken giggle.

“I hope whatever this is, it’s not breakable,” Lance laughed.

Shiro shook his head.

“It’s not, it’s just a little something.”

Lance clumsily ripped open the packaging and plucked out a shoe box. He lifted the lid and gave Shiro a quizzical expression. He pulled out the blue pair of Vans shoes and giggled.

“These are the ones from when we were getting gifts for Keith, you remembered I liked them?” Lance hiccupped slightly.

Shiro nodded and tapped his temple.

“Like a steel trap,” He grinned.

Lance reached his long leg across the couch and lightly kicked Shiro’s thigh.

“You asshole, you didn’t have to do that. I didn’t even bring your gift with me,” Lance groaned.

Shiro smiled wider and grabbed Lance’s foot, rubbing it softly, getting an appreciative noise from the other man.

“I don’t care, I just wanted to get you something,” Shiro shrugged.

Lance relaxed into the impromptu foot massage and looked lazily down at his best friend. Shiro’s neck was ringed red with the influences of the alcohol, his tank top putting the swells of his biceps on full display. Lance half wondered how in the world he wasn’t cold, though he wasn’t complaining about the view.

Shiro had always been painfully attractive, dark hair and beautiful grey eyes, a thick build and a soft nature that could melt hearts in seconds. Lance always wondered how in the world someone like him could have such a messy track record of failed relationships.

Lance sighed.

He thought about the early days sometimes…his first time ever…experimenting with a man. Shiro had been the first one he’d ever done anything with, from a nervous kiss on the front porch to a heated hand-job beneath the covers of Shiro’s sheets. He hadn’t allowed those happenings to cross his mind in a long while…but his broken heart now brought them back so vividly.

“You-hic- remember when we were in high-school?” Lance mumbled slowly as he offered his other foot to Shiro’s hands.

Shiro pressed his thumb along the dip of Lance’s arch and looked to Lance with curious eyes.

“Yeah, of course,” Shiro said with a smile.

There wasn’t a day that went by that Shiro didn’t think about their high-school days. He often visited those young, wild moments that brought them together, that broke barriers and tip-toed lines they hadn’t crossed before.

Lance’s smile grew, sly and playful as he watched Shiro.

“You remember that time…in your bedroom?” Lance purred drunkenly.

Shiro’s fingers paused, his throat tightening around an intake of breath. He tried to seem un-phased.

“Which time? If I recall correctly you literally spent like every weekend at my house,” Shiro chuckled.

Lance hummed and rocked his near empty glass in his hand slowly.

“No, like that specific time…when you gave me a hand-job for the first time?” Lance said with a inebriated little giggle.

Shiro sucked down a breath that burned all the way to his lungs. He could feel the warmth settling in his cheeks, his eyes refusing to look at anything but Lance’s feet. He thought about that instance often, the two of them touching so nervously beneath the comforters. Lance had crawled out of his pallet on the floor and invited himself into Shiro’s bed. He’d pressed his lips to Shiro’s and that had been nothing new, they’d kissed many times since Lance first admitted he batted for both teams.

But this kiss was different; it had been more heated, passionate and needy. Lance’s fingers had slipped beneath the hem of Shiro’s boxers, brushing through unruly black pubes, sliding around Shiro’s cock, already growing fat and hard on the kiss alone.

 _“I want to know what it feels like…”_ Lance had whispered to him breathlessly.

They’d rutted together like that, never removing their boxers, hands around each other’s cocks. Shiro could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end just thinking about how hard he’d cum, soiling the front of his underwear.

“I remember,” Shiro finally managed to reply.

Lance sat up then, with a little more effort than it should have taken. He gave Shiro a pleasantly lazy expression and drank the last swallow from his glass.

“I think about that sometimes, fuck that was one of the best orgasms I think I’ve ever had. Such a dirty secret y’know…” Lance laughed.

Shiro grinned finally.

“I think about it sometimes too,” Shiro admitted slowly.

Lance breathed in, breath whistling through his teeth.

“I should have tried harder,” Lance whispered.

Shiro raised his brows and stared at Lance.

“Tried harder at what?” He asked, hands still on Lance’s ankles.

“Tried harder to…I dunno, make it work with you. I’ve been through relationship after relationship and nobody has been here as long as you have,” Lance said, words slurred.

Shiro sighed.

“I think maybe you have had too much to drink,” Shiro tried to joke.

Thinking about what was and what could have been wasn’t healthy. Lance was fresh from a hard breakup, it hadn’t even been hours, he was drunk and Shiro was too. He wasn’t going to allow his heart to run away from him like it was currently trying to do.

Lance frowned and crawled across the couch; he sloppily set his drink on the table before him and squeezed both of his palms against Shiro’s cheeks.

“I’m serious. You’ve always been here for me. When things got bad, and Keith and I would fight…sometimes I’d think about what it would have been like if we’d not stopped…whatever that was way back when,” Lance mumbled.

Shiro looked to Lance’s face, then dropped his eyes, hand involuntarily coming to rest on the pad of Lance’s hip. The battle of right and wrong raged within his chest. He really should just take Lance to bed and let him sleep off the drunken stupor he was in. He wasn’t thinking clearly.

Lance was clambering into his lap then, sitting on the tops of Shiro’s thighs like he’d always belonged there.

“Sometimes I have dreams about you fucking me,” Lance huffed.

Shiro felt his mouth run dry.

“We never got to…I guess my mind always wanted to know what it would have been like.”

Lance leaned forward, the seam of his lips pressing firmly into Shiro’s.  Their mouths moved against one another’s, Lance tilting his head and allowing his fingers to get lost in Shiro’s dark locks. Shiro tightened his grip on Lance’s waist, lips parting to let Lance’s tongue run along his teeth. They both tasted like wine and a stockpile of bad decisions. Shiro groaned into the exchange, melting as he felt Lance’s hips rock into his own.

The blood pounding in his ears was deafening, heat growing and shifting in the pit of his stomach, traveling quickly down to his groin.

His palm found the back of Lance’s head as he kissed him deeper, lost in the motions, sinking into something he’d wanted for so very long. Part of him hadn’t processed it as reality just yet, there was still the possibility this could be a lucid dream.

His cock stirred to life, hardening beneath Lance’s rear. He couldn’t stop it, not with the way Lance felt against him, with how the younger man’s body moved, drunk but effortless.

Lance smiled against Shiro’s mouth and ground down on Shiro’s growing erection meanly.

Shiro broke the display of affection to let go of a deep, low, moan.

“L-Lance, are you sure, this is just really sudden and…” Shiro stammered, breathing erratic and broken.

Lance put his finger to Shiro’s lips and shushed him with a giddy smile.

“Please?” Lance whispered.

Shiro sighed, bumping his forehead up against Lance’s, the two of them staying that way for a long moment.

“Does this make me your drunken rebound?” Shiro asked teasingly.

Lance reared back, looking offended, brows pinched together tightly.

“Um, no, more like the chance I never took and now I’m gunna do what I should have done a long time ago,” Lance slurred.

“There’s nothing in my way, and I am gunna fuck you Takashi Shirogane.”

Shiro felt his heart clamber into his throat, threatening to just burst its way out. Pieces of him screamed that this was a terrible mistake. He was going to ruin a friendship if he went through with this, things wouldn’t be the same. But the ache in his chest wanted it, he wanted it more than any words could ever explain. Lance was hurting and he was just searching for companionship. What if Lance regretted it the next morning?

None of that mattered.

Right then Shiro was willing to throw caution out the car window and into the wind.

Shiro pressed their lips together hard, capturing Lance in a heated kiss that seemed to light the entire room ablaze. Their teeth clacked together as Shiro shifted and jarred Lance. Lance’s fingers tangled in the front of Shiro’s shirt. Everything came on rough and wanting, like firecrackers tied together and lit off at the same time. In a matter of seconds Shiro was thrust right back to his seventeen year old self, both of them so new to everything and full of hormones they didn’t know what to do with.

Shiro’s cock throbbed against his thigh, his mind deteriorating into a thick slush. He just needed Lance all around him, his voice flooding his senses, his warmth surrounding him like a good winter coat.

They kissed until they were out of breath, breaking only for a moment to swallow down lungfuls of air before coming together again.

Lance shoved his cold fingers up beneath Shiro’s shirt, lifting it up above the big man’s chest. Shiro sucked in a shaky breath, the cool air licking against his newly exposed skin, nipples rising into hard buds. Lance’s mouth left Shiro’s, tracing a wet line of sloppy kisses down to his best friend’s neck. His teeth pinched the tender skin there and Shiro hissed, hips leaving the couch to rut into Lance helplessly.

Lance’s thumb and forefinger pinched at Shiro’s left nipple, too hard but the sting had Shiro’s erection flexing in sudden interest.

“Ah! F-Fuck, Lance,” Shiro groaned, allowing his head to fall back against the couch cushion.

Lance mouthed at Shiro’s collarbone, hand abandoning Shiro’s chest to slide down the dark haired man’s heaving abdomen. He ghosted his fingers over the hills of muscles, following the dark trail of coarse hairs leading to the elastic of Shiro’s sweatpants.

Lance nosed against the dip of Shiro’s throat as he palmed the other man’s groin, humming softly.

“You feel bigger than I remember,” Lance giggled as he extended his neck to nip playfully at Shiro’s earlobe.

Shiro’s eyes slatted open, the corner of his mouth tugging upward in a devilish smile.

“Maybe I am bigger, we were only Juniors…” Shiro grinned.

Lance returned Shiro’s slow smile.

“Remember when I gave you a blowjob down at the creek?” Lance asked through labored breaths.

“Where you panicked when I came and instead of swallowing you got it all over my shorts? Yes, how could I forget,” Shiro teased as his massive palms found the rounds of Lance’s ass cheeks.

“Look your load was huge ok, and you caught me off guard,” Lance replied quickly.

They both laughed then, caught up in the memories that once were.

“Sometimes I would think of you when I slept with other people,” Lance said slowly, as if he were admitting something he'd long since buried.

“Me too,” Shiro groaned as he pushed Lance’s shirt collar aside and meanly sucked a dark mark into the skin there.

“You did?” Lance whined, his words drifting off into a moan.

Shiro nodded.

“I don’t think I ever stopped thinking about you.”

The words left Shiro’s mouth before he had a prayer of stopping them. He felt ten thousand times heavier in that moment.

Lance leaned back to give Shiro a quizzical expression.

And then he smiled.

“Maybe I didn’t either,” Lance said softly as he cupped Shiro’s chin.

Shiro’s head was far gone, past the ceiling and out into the snowstorm still roaring wildly outside the home. He had Lance in his arms, spreading warm kisses over his skin. He didn’t care if they were drunk, if Lance was just acting out of spite for Keith or sadness, it was real if only for a moment. Shiro wasn’t about to turn Lance away, he didn’t have that kind of strength in him.

Lance gently tugged the front of Shiro’s worn sweatpants down, allowing dark curls to peer out, blatantly revealing Shiro hadn’t bothered to put on underwear. Lance seemed genuinely amused with that fact. He dragged the point of his tongue across his bottom lip as he pulled the ragged, slightly discolored clothing farther, over the hard line of Shiro’s arousal, until finally the big man’s cock sprung free, bouncing eagerly at attention before him.

Lance gently curled the ring of his fingers around Shiro’s impressive girth, thumb sliding across his slit, gathering the tear of clear fluid there. The young man tugged upward, Shiro’s glans disappearing beneath his foreskin, Lance seeming to be enthralled with the action.

“You’re definitely bigger,” Lance laughed softly.

Shiro grinned.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Shiro snorted.

Lance dragged his wrist downward, stroking Shiro’s hardness, feeling the big man twitch beneath his hold.

“Good thing, really, really good thing,” Lance replied.

Shiro’s eyes slipped closed as he kissed the corner of Lance’s mouth, hands clutching Lance tightly as the brunet jerked him slowly, more fluid leaking from his prick and sliding down his underside sloppily. He hid his face in the crook of Lance’s neck, pitiful moans slipping from his tongue without reserve.

Lance’s palm was so soft, his flesh buttery smooth and so very warm as he gripped Shiro’s cock. In the blink of an eye they were young again, exploring each other’s bodies eagerly. It was everything Shiro could have asked for. He didn’t need any other gifts, this was all he wanted.

Shiro hitched his arms under Lance’s ass and stood, trying to ensure he kept his footing, even though the room was a little wobbly around him. The two teetered down the hallway, Lance crashing his mouth into Shiro’s, his legs wrapped tightly around Shiro’s lower back.

Shiro stumbled into his bedroom, their bodies tumbling into the messy comforters. He caged Lance to the bed, rucking the young man’s shirt upward, his weighty cock dragging across Lance’s stomach leaving a thin line of pre-cum along the warm skin. He delved back into Lance’s lips, as if not wanting to be disconnected from them for too long.

Lance’s fingernails bit into Shiro’s back through the material of his tank top, the beautiful man throwing his head backward lithely. His brown locks haloed around him on the mattress, looking more perfect than anything Shiro could have possibly imagined.

Every motion was frantic and frenzied, as if both souls had been waiting years for this. Shiro liked the idea of Lance wanting this for as long as he had. He wasn’t sure if that was completely true, but the thought felt nice as it crossed through his cloudy head.

Lance clumsily hooked his thumbs into his PJ pants and struggled to rid himself of the garments. Shiro was immediately there to help, forcing himself away from kissing Lance again and again. He stripped the plaid material from Lance’s hips, taking his soft boxer briefs with them. Everything was discarded to the floor, falling in heaps, the only mess to be seen in Shiro’s pristinely kept bedroom.

Shiro wasted little time before joining Lance in his state of undress. Shiro stood momentarily, struggling out of his sweatpants before returning to the bed.

Lance rolled onto his stomach, his ass like two perfect little sand dunes against the pale comforters, his shirt rumpled at his mid waist. He turned to look back at his counterpart, eyes half closed and a slim smile hung on those thin lips of his. His hair was a mess from the frantic nature in which they’d ended up here in bed and Shiro’s heart hurt just looking at him.

What he wouldn’t give to see Lance like this all the time. What he wouldn’t do to share his bed with the gorgeous man every night. What would it be like to hear Lance’s laughter in his home on a daily basis? To come in the front door and find Lance having fallen asleep on his couch, or to see Lance humming in the kitchen as he put together one of his amazing meals he so enjoyed cooking. What a thing it would be to share a life with such a fantastic person.

How could Keith have given up all of that so easily? He’d had what Shiro would have died for and it wasn’t enough. He’d left it all behind.

Shiro would never let something like that fall through his fingers. Lance was a once in a lifetime happening. He was a comet that passed by earth only a single time every hundred years, and you’d be lucky to catch a glimpse of him.

Shiro kissed the small of Lance’s back, right along the soft dimples inlaid into the younger’s skin.

He wanted this, all of this. He wanted the good and the bad and the disagreements and the love. He wanted everything that Keith had left behind to rot. He didn’t deserve it, he knew that. This was far too fast to even consider that he might have a chance in hell, but for a moment he allowed himself to believe maybe he did. Maybe he would wake up tomorrow morning and Lance wouldn’t hate him and he’d stay in bed with Shiro listening to the wind still moaning outside.

Shiro nearly teetered off the bed as he reached into the second drawer of his nightstand. The lubricant was cold and thick on his digits, the big man allowing the bottle to roll out of his hand and onto the bedding when he was done with it. He circled the button of Lance’s entrance, tight, velvet flesh fluttering away from him with the touch.

Lance sighed as Shiro slowly pressed his first two fingers into the warmth of his innards. Shiro could feel the muscles clench around the intrusion. He was so beautifully taut, Shiro having trouble finding his ability to think as he gingerly fucked the digits into his partner.

Lance hummed and clutched one of Shiro’s pillows, lifting his pert ass eagerly into the advancement. Shiro added another finger, his motions taking on a slow, easy pace as he watched Lance’s hole take him inside so easily.

“Mmm, Takashi, fuck me!” Lance exclaimed, rocking his hips and looking back to Shiro with gorgeously pleading eyes.

Shiro couldn’t possibly say no to something like that. A stronger man might have been able to tease and draw it out longer, make Lance mewl and cry for his cock, but Shiro had waited so long for this, there was no patience left in his bones.

Shiro squirted more of the lubricant into his palm, sliding his girth through his halo of fingers with a disgustingly wet sound.

His eyes flicked to the man before him, just as Lance raised his hips, hole pulsing open and dripping with lube. Shiro groaned. He’d never seen anything more beautiful. Neither man could be bothered to remove their shirts, nor their socks; there was too much urgency in the matter at hand. Fully undressing just seemed like it would take far too long.

Shiro’s head brushed the dark pucker of Lance’s ass, a careful hand guiding him forward. His glans disappeared into Lance’s body, gathering a high moan from the lanky man in response. Shiro flattened a palm against Lance’s back, right along his spine as he very slowly pressed in a few more inches.

Lance whined softly and allowed his front half to flop onto the bed, ass still in the air, his fingers tangling in the sheets.

“H-hold on, let me adjust,” Lance whimpered.

Shiro nodded and soothed a slow circle across Lance’s hip, hands moving to dazedly massage his ass cheeks, working the doughy flesh with his thumbs. Shiro tilted his head back, eyes sliding closed as he relished in the feeling of Lance all around him. He groaned lowly, softly applying a light spank to Lance’s left ass-cheek. Lance made a pathetic sound in response and so Shiro did it again, three more times, gathering pleased whimpers from the man beneath him.

Shiro pressed in farther, Lance seeming more pliable as the minutes ticked by. Lance didn’t tell him to stop, and so he continued.

“That feel ok?” Shiro whispered breathlessly.

Lance nodded, hiding his face in the pillow he’d latched onto.

“S-so good…” He muttered, his voice barely audible.

Shiro smiled and rolled his hips forward, setting a slow, easy pace. He watched with enamored eyes as he pressed himself flush to Lance’s backside, only to leisurely pull back out. He pressed a thumb to the side of Lance’s hole, sinking just the tip in beside his cock, watching the flesh stretch to take him so readily.

The gentle way in which he fucked slowly deteriorated as Lance’s sounds of pleasure became louder with each thrust. Shiro was egged on by Lance’s lusty words, hips snapping into the slighter man. The slap of skin and the moans sliding off Lance’s tongue competed with the howling wind, drowning out the sounds of the storm.

Shiro hovered over Lance, wrapping an arm around his waist as he humped feverishly. His teeth found the nape of the brunet’s neck, nipping lovingly as he held Lance tightly. Lance rocked backward into each of Shiro’s thrusts, his words jumbling together until they were just sounds, cries of ecstasy that rung through the room.

Shiro’s fingers found Lance’s erection, stroking him softly, trying to keep time with his thrusts but failing miserably. He was too drunk to coordinate his hand motions like that.

He could feel Lance still beneath him, his voice dripping like honey off every wall. His cock grew harder in Shiro’s palm before Lance gave way to his orgasm, shaft flexing and throbbing with each expulsion. He shivered and cried out loudly as he came on Shiro’s freshly washed bedding, eyes rolling back in his head, lashes kissing together tightly.

Shiro nosed into the back of Lance’s hair, bringing him closer, fucking him faster, and chasing the heels of his partner’s finish. He was aware it had only been maybe ten minutes, a short lived fuck and he knew he could do better, but he _needed_ it. He didn’t care if he was a little quick on the trigger this time.

Shiro panted Lance’s name into his wispy brown locks, hot breath pouring over the flesh of his neck. Shiro pressed in deep, sack pulling tight to his body his breath all but stopping. Stars danced at the corners of his vision, everything whirling around him faster than the storm outside the window. His fingers dug divots into Lance’s flesh. He closed his eyes. The darkness seeped into his every pore, the rush of blood to his ears, the pound of his own heart, it was all so surreal. The tension in his gut spread out like electricity.

He gasped into the tepid, sweat damp air for a few breathless seconds.

And then everything crashed through him, like a vehicle speeding straight into a head on collision. He found his voice as he spent his load deep into Lance’s body, bellowing Lance’s name with deafening volume. He shuddered, hips twitching forward in several half-hearted thrusts. He whispered small curses then, holding himself up with shaking arms.

They stayed like that for a long moment, panting into the air, sticky bodies still pressed against one another.

And then Shiro heard Lance laugh.

Shiro cocked his head and very carefully pulled his softening cock from Lance’s body, some of his finish running down the canyon of the young man’s ass.

Lance tiredly rolled himself onto his back.

“That was…holy shit…” Lance giggled, as if he partially couldn’t believe what they’d just done.

Shiro smiled tiredly.

“I’ll get some towels,” He said giving Lance a pair of soft, pleased eyes.

The trip to the bathroom was made hard with his legs feeling more like wet noodles than anything else. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d gotten laid. It had probably been a year or so, he’d not had the energy to seek out sex after he and Adam had gone their separate ways. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to orgasm that hard, to feel like this afterward.

He made it back to the bed, handing the towel to the other man and then tugging the cum drenched comforters from the mattress. Lance curled up into a satisfied little ball, making an appreciative noise as Shiro fetched extra blankets from the closet and threw them over the brunet.

Blue eyes peered out from beneath the mountain of covers and Shiro laughed softly. Lance patted the empty side of the bed and Shiro obeyed willingly. His body felt heavy as he dropped down onto the pillow-top, sighing as he nestled himself into the warmth.

He felt the bed shift as his company rolled over, looked sated and exhausted. Fingers curled in the front of his shirt and Shiro watched Lance with curious eyes.

“That was worth the years of waiting,” Lance mumbled before pulling Shiro in for a tired kiss.

Shiro smiled against Lance’s lips.

*****

Shiro’s eyes rolled beneath heavy lids. He very slowly tried to pry them open, only to become very aware of the throbbing in his temples. He groaned. He’d had too much to drink and his body was not being subtle about its displeasure with that fact.

The previous evening weighed heavy on his already pounding head.

Lance’s tears, the too many glasses of wine, the fucking, Lance crying his name…it all felt...too good to be true. But he knew it had happened, he knew it in his very makeup.

Shiro sucked in a deep breath, he willed all the courage he had and rolled over to catch a glimpse of the other side of the bed.

He was met by a sleepy pair of cyan orbs, and then the whites of a small smile.

“Hey,” Lance whispered, hair sticking out in all directions as he remained tucked beneath the heavy blankets.

Shiro settled down, facing the other man.

“Hey,” Shiro whispered back.

There was a wall between them, not one that could be seen, but it could be felt. Shiro was aware his heart was sinking fast; he would never be able to recover it from the ocean floor now.

But then…Lance reached out, intertwining his fingers within Shiro’s very slowly. Shiro looked to him with unsure eyes. Lance only responded with a wider smile.

“Lance about last night, I’m so sorry…” Shiro started but Lance quickly shushed him.

“Stop,” Lance said with a yawn.

“Don’t be sorry, I'm not,” Lance scolded with a soft smile.

Shiro laughed nervously.

Lance scooted toward Shiro’s body, inviting himself into his personal space, tucking his head beneath Shiro’s chin. Shiro hesitantly draped his arm around Lance’s waist.

“So…what are we…doing?” Shiro dared to question.

“I don’t really know. But I think I like it,” Lance said after a moment of thought.

“I’m still hurt…but…this feels…nice,” He continued.

Shiro nodded and tugged Lance closer to him.

“It does feel nice,” He admitted.

*****

Six months later:

Shiro dragged himself in the front door his body feeling heavy and worn. As soon as he kicked it closed behind him, his nostrils were greeted by the most heavenly scent he’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing. He groaned as he followed the alluring aroma into the kitchen.

He dropped his backpack down by the entryway and watched the scene before him with adoring eyes.

Lance was moving around the space of the kitchen, singing to the radio station he had on, babysitting several pans at once. His motions were fluid, like a dancer across the stage; Shiro had never seen anyone move like that.

Shiro entered the room, arms coming to slide around those familiar, lovely hips. He pressed several kisses to the side of Lance’s throat.

“Hey stud,” Lance grinned as he turned in Shiro’s hold.

“Hey beautiful,” Shiro smiled as he pecked Lance’s lips.

He never thought this would be his reality, watching Lance move so naturally around the home. But Lance was a constant here now, he’d let the lease on his apartment run out, knowing it harbored too many memories for him to stomach staying there. Shiro had opened his doors to him, insisting he stay as long as he needed. And then Lance never left. Shiro was so glad he didn’t.

Things had been a lot of stumbling, two hearts that had been bruised trying to beat in harmony together, but Shiro was pretty sure they had it down now. Lance had introduced him as his boyfriend for the first time four months in and Shiro had not corrected him. He liked the sound of the new title on Lance’s lips.

Lance kissed Shiro one more time.

“Stop distracting me, you’ll make me burn something,” Lance teased as he turned back to his cooking.

Shiro playfully swatted Lance’s rear and made his way to the fridge. Lance yelped and gave him a little scowl.

“Don’t worry the only thing smoking in this kitchen, is you,” Shiro said slyly.

“Are you trying to seduce me Takashi?” Lance asked wryly.

“Maybe I am,” Shiro laughed as he poured himself a glass of water.

Lance tapped a spoon on the side of his dish and grinned.

“After dinner, you, me, bedroom,” Lance commanded with a wink.

Shiro snorted out a laugh.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

 


End file.
